Mark Avery: Death Eater
by accessgranter
Summary: This is my first try at a HP type of story, and actually, for any fanfiction at all! It's not about the main characters, but about my own character, set in this world...reviews would be great! Any HP references belong to J.K. Rowling, obviously.


It was a dreary April day, and yet the sunny, brilliant weather from the previous day just wasn't carrying over. The rain was quietly drizzling down against the window, making a pitter-patter noise, and distracting the students from their studies. The French teacher, Mr. Ward, had given them a chapter to read, and then to complete the vocabulary for that section of the book, but no one was concentrated enough to do their work. They were all looking outside with expressions of longing on their faces, wishing they could be outside. Raining though it was, it was still warm enough that one could go outside and play a game of basketball, or just enjoy themselves.

One student in particular was feeling a bit restless, twirling the pencil between his fingers, flipping the page of the book back and forth, and generally not concentrating on his schoolwork. Any of his classmates who noticed this behaviour whilst they were talking amongst themselves were keeping quiet about it; the boy was normally a very studious one, always doing his work as the teacher assigned it, finishing it right there in class so he didn't have any homework. The reason for the restlessness was a simple creature, perched on the windowsill, next to where he was seated. This in itself was not strange, but it was the animal itself; an owl.

The large brown owl shook its body, sending water everywhere. Sitting underneath the overhang of the school's window, the bird was temporarily safe from the accumulating water, and it proceeded to tap the window, as if to get the boy's attention. He looked at the bird, and his eyes opened wide.

"Uh…Monsieur Ward….est-ce je peut aller boire du l'eau?"

The teacher looked up at him from behind his rounded spectacles, and gave him a faint smile.

"Oui, mais sois vite."

"Merci."

The boy practically leapt from his chair, and ran out of the classroom, sprinting down the long hallway, past the guidance office, past rows of lockers, and past the main office until he reached the Main Lobby, where the front doors of the school were located. He burst out of the school, into the rain, and waved in the direction of the owl. The owl hooted faintly at him, and then took off, majestically lifting into the air, and just as soon dropping onto the boys shoulder. He shuddered gently, and reached up to untie a roll of faded paper that was attached to the bird's skinny leg.

He held the paper in his left hand, and dug into his pocket for a while, until he pulled out a handful of bronze coins, which he promptly deposited in a pouch that was attached to the bird's other leg. The bird nibbled affectionately at the boys earlobe, and then spread its wings, taking flight. The boy stood there in the rain for some time, starting after the bird, and dreading what the letter would read. Knowing he could delay it no further, he went back inside the school, and sat down on one of the benches, unfolding the letter.

He looked down at the flowing script, written in ink, and read the message in his head.

_I'm sorry Darryl, but they're coming for you. They've found out, finally. James has also been discovered, and so has Sora. I sent a message ahead to those two, and I can only pray this one reaches you in time. If you DO get this message before they arrive, leave immediately. Anybody you are with is in danger, though I think it's rather stupid telling you this. Meet us later. Good luck._

_Aidan_

The boy who was not really a boy let the paper fall out of his hands, and started walking back to his classroom. As he walked away, the paper slowly turned black, and started crisping at the edges. By the time he had passed the main office, the paper had burned completely into a pile of ash. Pictures were running through the boy's head, and he paused before he entered the French room.

"Ah, Mark, ou etait vous?"

"Uh…j'etais dehors monsieur, je ne sentait pas si bien…je suis alle pour une sent de l'aire fraiche."

"D'accord, ce n'est pas grande choses, mais la periode est presque fini…"

"Je m'excuse monsieur…"

The teacher gave him a disapproving look , but he just shrugged.

"Mais alors, je peut faire rien maintenant…"

As Mr. Ward was talking, Mark tuned out and stole a glance out the window. The sun was coming out, and as a result he spotted them. Two dark spots against the otherwise clearing sky, but their manoeuvre was a clever one, as they could be mistaken for birds or just spots in the cloud. They obviously thought that their cloaks or invisibility spells wouldn't be needed, which was clear in the way they were descending. By the time Mr. Ward was done giving his mini lecture, the pair he had been forewarned about had touched down in the parking lot, out of sight.

"Ah well, my grades are about to take a sever drop anyways…." Thought Mark, as he prepared to leave school…for the last time.

"Monsieur…je n'ai pas du temps pour ca. J m'excuse encore….mais je doit partir. Au revoir!"

Before he could step around his stunned teacher and grinning classmates, the door was flung open. Standing in the doorway were the pair he had seen touch down on broomsticks mere moments ago. The one with dark hair stepped forward first, and placed his right hand on the butt of what seemed to be a piece of wood sticking out of a very skinny holster that was slung low across his hips.

"Crap…"

Mr. Ward looked at Mark, and then turned to the newcomers.

"May I help you?" asked the bewildered French teacher.

"No, not really." Replied the dark haired one. "We're just here for your student here….isn't that right, Mark?"

Mark grimaced at the pair in reply, but said nothing.

The second one of the pair, the one with sandy blond hair spoke up.

"Look Mark, you know why we're here. I really like these American movies, so I'll be clichéd, and tell you that we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Which do you prefer?"

"Hmph. How about I just stay in French class, and finish my homework? I'll not be angry if you guys choose to leave quietly, though." Mark smirked at the pair.

"Ok, Mark, I guess you're leaving us no choice, then." Quick as a flash, the two pulled out the slim pieces of wood, and pointed them at people in the class, one at Mr. Ward himself, and one at a boy of asian descent sitting next to Mark in the aisle.

"Either you cut the crap and come with us, or we kill them right here, and then we'll kill you, in front of the rest of them."

Mr. Ward finally found his voice again, and spoke up.

"I don't know who you two think you are, but if you think you can simply waltz into my class, and brandish these ridiculous pieces of wood around, then you are sadl-"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A jet of green light issued from the wand, and struck the French teacher in the chest mid-sentence. He was knocked back slightly, and then crumpled, hitting a desk on the way down. Mark stood there, agape at what the pair had just done.

"Now, are you going to take us seriously?"

Mark looked up, and found both wands pointing at him. He sputtered incoherently, and snapped his head to the side, as if he spotted something.

"What does tha-" the dark haired one stopped in the middle of his sentence as an empty desk on Mark's left rose off the ground, and flew through the air, striking him right in the chest. Caught completely unawares by this, the blond brought his wand around, and bellowed "_Reducto!_" at the desk. It shattered into a million pieces of wood, splinters flying everywhere. The ruffled pair suddenly turned around, and looked wildly for Mark, and saw him duck out into the hallway. A curse flew over his head, striking the brick wall, cracking the red, time worn brink in two, sending mortar flying.

They dashed out into the hallway, and students and teachers were starting to come out of their classes to see what the commotion was all about. The pair blasted out of the French class, wands at the ready, to see Mark standing in the middle of the corridor, holding his own piece of slim wood. The shine had come off, but there was no mistaking what it was.

"You want to play games, kid? Fine! We'll play!"

The two both charged at the same time, one yelling "Crucio!" and the other making odd gestures in the air with his wand. The Cruciatus Curse shot forward, and Mark dove down to the ground, and rolled to his left, and yelled "Stupefy!". The bolt of red light blasted forward, and was going to hit the dark haired guy right in the head when-

WHAM. The red jet was flung off to the side, smashing into a wooden door, blowing it inwards. A pillar of fire had emitted from the blonde's wand, acting like a sword. He deflected the spell from his partner's direction, and swung it towards Mark. Mark sprung off his knees, and the fire blade impacted with the floor, leaving a deep, melted trench where Mark had just been kneeling. The dark haired guy raised his wand to perform a deadly curse, but while the blonde was recovering his stance, Mark lunged. Abandoning all forms of magic, he sank his fist, wand and all, right into his stomach. The guy doubled over in pain, and Mark brought his knee right up into his face. A sharp crack went through the air, and Mark knew his nose had been broken. The guy straightened back up, and Mark threw himself to the side, as the blonde swung his flaming sword at him. The stunned dark haired man's eyes were closed, and the last thing he ever heard was the crackling of the flame on the sword as it decapitated him, sending his bloody head flying into the wall. The bottom of the head, and the top of the dark haired man's neck had been cauterized closed by the heat, and you could hear the last vestiges of air escape the man's neck as the body crumpled and hit the cold floor.

The students who had gathered around the altercation gasped and each took an instinctive step backwards away from their classmate and peer, the one who had stepped up to be elected to a position on their Student Council, the one who forever had an answer in class, the one who always did his homework, the one who was always there for you.

Mark stood back, a spatter of blood on his white pants.

"Well, damnit. Aran ruined my pants, Belafonte!" Mark sneered at the blonde.

Belafonte bared his teeth. He didn't look the least bit saddened, though a bit dismayed.

"Still want to 'play', as you so aptly put it?"

The blonde pointed his sword at Mark, and yelled "Epithimus!" The flaming blade shot right off the end of the wand, directly into Mark's face.

"Protego!" The Shield Charm barely protected Mark from the blast, but the force knocked him backwards, sending him skidding.

"Avada Keda-"

The Killing Curse was interrupted as Mark held his wand, and flicked it upwards. The tile on the floor ripped itself out of the socket, and flew upwards, striking him on the bottom of the chin. His mouth filled with blood, and he spat on the floor, the red mess leaving a stain. He bared his now-red teeth, and yelled something incoherently, and silver sparks roiled out of his wand in a focused stream towards Mark. The sparks stuck to everything it touched, the floor, the brick wall, the glass cabinets, everything. They sat there for a split second, looking like diamonds embedded everywhere, and then they suddenly burst into flame, a magical fire that could not be quelled by ordinary water.

The flames surrounded Mark, and Belafonte strode forward, unaffected by his own diabolical fire. He picked up a silver ember in his bare hands, and rolled it around, before throwing it back into the fire. Belafonte grinned.

"Now…we finish this!"

"Bite me!"

Mark yelled "Stupefy!" just as Belafonte roared "Avada Kedavra!". The red light smashed into the green light in midair, creating an explosion that sent them both flying. There was a miniature crater in the ground, and Mark scrambled to his feet, his wand at the ready, but he saw there was no reason. Belafonte had been smashed through the glass cabinet, impaled on a long dagger of broken glass, through his throat. He gurgled out his last breath, and then his chest stopped rising.

Mark sighed, and lowered his hand, wincing. Even though the magical explosion had stopped the fire, he had still been badly burned, but he had no time to get to a hospital. He had to leave his school, the place he had been secretly hiding for the past three years. He did not look his age, and with the help of a few image-altering spells, he fit right in with the general high school population.

Mark looked around, went to the most badly injured students, and tapped their wounds with his wands. Their wounds instantly healed, but he had no time for the emotional damages. No time to modify memories…. which would take a lot of doing. That was better left to the professionals, who would be coming soon.

Mark took one quick last look at the school around him, and with a quick pop, he Disapparated.


End file.
